


disconnected

by orphan_account



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Reflection, implied gavin/kamski brothers, oh and also: nonwhite gavin, somewhat of a character study?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-07-10 12:49:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15949688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Gavin grew up in a world of technology and wonder and it only improves and improves.But nothing else does.





	disconnected

**Author's Note:**

> alternatively titled: i'm an angry Lesbian Of Color and dbh is just a whole other suitcase of bs to unpack so i decided to vent some of my anger about the world into this

He remembers watching on the news about riot after riot, not really understanding the reason behind it all. At school they called it senseless violence. His mother told him it was justice.

And there were always cops. On the scene, in homes, in buildings, either instigating or trying to pull apart the offenders. He would pull up videos and watch in horror and feel the phantom pains of the tear gas, of the gunshots, of the tearful cries and screams. Would pretend he was there, his fist raised in the air, and would pretend like he could do something about it.

He would hear people at school talk about these things. Would hear their dirty words and their dirty jokes. Would listen in shame of his own peers say that they deserved it, for being criminals, for breaking the law.

(But who really broke the law? Who did the law fail?)

His mother would kiss his forehead and tell him not to listen; she would stroke his hair and sing to him and tell him there's nothing in the world as powerful as change, as the determination to see it through.

(He watched as the android who called himself _Markus_ raised his fist in protest against the dozens of guns pointed at him and all they did was lower their heads in shame, while the side of humanity that they had failed did that for years and they would have been gunned down before they could even rise up.)

When his mother died and he was all alone, and when his brother moved away and stopped talking to him, he went to college for something stupid, but learned something far more important to him than a degree. He was thrown firsthand into the sight of injustice, spent many of his years holding a sign or a candle, either standing in silence or screaming so hard in the face of policemen with glass shields that his spit would fly all over the surface. He learned to stop crying at the reports on the news about more deaths, more injustice, more crime against humanity, and to take a stand, _there's nothing in the world as powerful as change._

He wishes he had opened his eyes more as a teenager, had not been so caught up in his own drama and his own stupid feelings. Had not spent so much time throwing himself into dangerous sports and stunts to ignore the mantra in his head that just screamed at him _I hate you, I hate you, I hate you._ That mantra remains but has been hushed, quieted down, deaf in comparison to the rage of determination in his veins. 

His generation grew up on school lock-downs and politicians tweeting out their lewd and disgusting thoughts and everyone else screaming at them that they were too young to _really_ know what the real world is like, _too caught up in those devices of theirs._ Yet they were the ones being attacked, being shot down, and all that anyone could offer were _hopes and prayers._

He remembers dropping out of college and leaving his degree behind to go through the police entrance exam. He remembers gazing with fury at the men in uniform that would order him around, spitting onto the ground when they weren't looking and cursing the very ground they stepped on. They had failed him, had failed everyone else. But the fire in his heart was stronger than the trials they put him through, and with the vow to his mother that he would try to be at least some sort of change, he graduated from the academy and earned himself a job. 

(Not without a name change first. Nobody would take him seriously with the name _Gavin Kamski._ )

He remembers growing up with anger in his very being so maybe that's why it flares whenever an android walks by. They were the disciples of his stupid brother, they were simply machines designed to do things humans could do, and while he had fought tooth and nail to get to where he is now they were just built and sent off without so much as a background check.

When the androids started to become more than themselves, he remembered watching on his television, sweaty hands clutching his couch as he watched androids be gunned down without any remorse. He remembers the recall of them, the order for them to be sent to camps, and the very thought of it rose bile in his throat. It reminded him of when he was young, watching the news reports on his mom's old TV and seeing the bloodied fists raised in the air surrounded by the sight of smoke.

(He remembers watching that _stupid, fucking plastic prick Connor_ march down the streets of Detroit with an entire army behind him, and someone almost completely identical to him beside him. He remembers the speech Markus gave, and the announcement from the president that androids were some new, intelligent life form.

New, intelligent life form.

A _living being._

He had been abusing a living being.)

He remembers not going to the station for days afterwards, wallowed in his own guilt and pity and depression. He remembers Tina coming down to his house and dragging him by the ear, until he worked up the courage to walk up to the newly-hired Connor, tail tucked between his legs, an apology awkwardly slipping from his lips.

But there was still that _rage,_ and he watched as the androids got their rights faster and faster than the rest of humanity ever could. There were still fights, and riots, and protests, and injustice, and yet here androids were, the stars of the show, while everyone else got shoved aside, like usual.

(He may not hate androids anymore, but there is still anger. There is _jealousy._ They could _never_ compare to the trials of humanity in the thousand of years they have existed.)

These thoughts and memories roll by him as he scrolls through photos of himself as a child on his monitor, the sound of blood rushing in his ears drowning out the rest of the precinct. He can't hear anything, and all he can think of is fire and smoke.

And even then, when Connor walks by and waves, cheerful as ever, he can't bring himself to scream, or shout, or be angry.

(He just waves back, and wonders if this is the change his mother talked about.)

**Author's Note:**

> imma keep it real w u chief, its 12 am and im mad. stupid comments will be deleted so dont even try


End file.
